


footprints left in the sand

by watergator



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, non youtuber au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24092416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watergator/pseuds/watergator
Summary: in another world, dan and phil fall in love on a hidden beach
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 77
Collections: Alittledizzy birthday fics 2020





	footprints left in the sand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dizzy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/gifts).



> happy birthday mandy !! <3

He lays tangled in thin sheets, the air around him thick and muggy. The ceiling above his head is now fuzzy, nighttime darkness already crept its way in hours before. The wind outside sings, high and far away sounding.   
  
Dan lays there, listening to the wind and looking at the same ceiling he’s soon become accustomed to. However, in a few short hours, he’ll be leaving this place, crawling back to his own temporary home, simply a box to him, where he’ll try and pack until he cries maybe, hop on a train and be taken far away from this place.   
  
The thought makes tears prick behind his eyes, and when he blinks, it does nothing much to stop any impending sadness that washes over him.

Phil’s lying beside him, rolled over onto his belly where the sheets are rumpled right around his waist.   
  
It’s dark, and Dan can’t see through the hazy vision of darkness, but he can make out the curve of his back, the roundness of his shoulders - his elbow juts out and the abnormally large shape of his skull.   
  
He thinks again about how in a few short hours when the sun rises, all of this will be gone.   
  
A final night, he thinks with a bitter taste on his tongue. One final night.   
  
Sleep doesn’t come easy, and instead runs in small droplets, thick and inconsistent like honey. He tosses and turns and makes as little noise as he possibly can. The last thing he wants is to wake Phil, but his pillow folds beneath his head, his skin itches and before he can think too much, he’s tripping his way out of bed.   
  
He walks across the room, naked until he finds Phil’s shirt sweatshirt on the floor. He pulls his arms through each sleeve, too tired to pull them properly over his hands. He yanks a pair of discarded pants off the floor, uncaring of who they belong to, and he almost trips again as he pulls them over each wobbly leg.   
  
The outside air is fresh. Wind bites at his skin rather harshly, but it feels nice in a strange kind of way.   
  
The world is blanketed in a beautiful kind of darkness, however, he’s still able to make out where the water runs into the sky, just across the stretch of sand in front of the house. The moonlight dances across the reflection of the ocean, skipping and shimmering in a magical silver light that holds his attention a little longer than probably necessary. 

May has been kind to them, only a few days out of the last few months have been miserable with rain and clouded skies. But as usual with nighttime, the sun is long gone, and no longer offers the warmth he once knew on his bare skin.   
  
The beach looks different during the late hour than it does when the sky is bright. He looks across the rocks, the little snug spot where he’s spent many days in the early months of the spring and the summer tucked away, sprawled out, bare legs, belly against the sand and a hand in his salted curls, laughter shared between two people, only the ocean behind them knowing of what they have.

What they still, technically have.

He thinks again about the train, the bag sat in his apartment, left empty and sad. He thinks about Phil still in bed, naked and gorgeous. He thinks about the sand and the sun and the way Phil’s lips tasted against his when they’d emerge from the water, wet and loud and bold.   
  
The wind brushes past him and he shivers, hugging himself tighter. The sweater smells like Phil and he buries his nose into the sleeve to inhale it more.   


He hears the door behind him from where he’s sat on the front deck creak open and close softly.

Feet come padding towards him and soon enough, Phil’s sat beside him.

He says nothing at first, and instead looks out to where the water moves. Dan looks at him carefully.   
  
His hair is a mess, as always. Ruffled and falling about the place. His round glasses sit heavy on his nose, where a strand of hair falls over his forehead to tickle at his frames. Despite the darkness, Dan can make out the sparkle in his eyes. They’re equally as beautiful as the ocean; in the day and the night.   
  
He notices then that Phil’s wearing his shirt. It’s the button up checkered one. Dan’s heart flips in his chest when he sees that the buttons going up his front are all wrong and wonky. He smiles something small.   
  
“Are you really leaving tomorrow?” Phil eventually speaks. His voice is quiet. Timid. Reminding Dan of the boy he’d met mere months ago. How he’d changed since then.   
  
Dan licks his lips, still tasting the salt from earlier, and swallows hard.   
  
“Technically though, it’s today,” he croaks with a half laugh.   
  
He glances down at the watch on his wrist, giving the glass a tap with his fingernail. Phil also glances down, like it might actually confirm it to him.   
  
He only purses his lips into a thin line, the look of uncertainty.   
  
A moment passes between them and a wave crashes on a nearby rock, sizzling as water breaks apart, flying through the darkness.   
  
“I don’t want to go,” Dan tells him. “I wish I didn’t have to.”   
  
It’s then that Phil grabs his hand, facing one another for the first time in what feels like an eternity.   
  
“Then don’t,” he says, almost pleading.  _ No _ . It  _ is _ pleading.   
  
Phil wants him to stay. His eyes shimmer and his hands clasped around his are cold but sure.   
  
Dan opens his mouth but no words seem to come to him. He snaps it shut and looks down at where their hands are, intertwined with one another.   
  
“My home, Phil,” Dan tells him. “I have to go back to my family. I can’t run away forever.”   
  
The words he speaks himself don’t even feel true in his own mouth. He’s not even sure he believes himself, let alone Phil believing him.   
  
Phil’s face crumples, looking as if he’s trying to grasp at some sort of idea, yet, nothing seems to come to him.   
  
Dan looks away from his eyes, and instead looks at their hands once again. He’d never noticed how large his own hands were, not until he’d met Phil. Not until Phil’s hands fit so nicely in his, so tiny and delicate. It was nice.   
  
Or maybe he’d never noticed because nobody had ever held his hand with so much care and love before. Not before he’d run away here. Not until he’d met the sweetest, most loving man on this very beach, taken him by the hand, lacing their fingers together where he’d taken him inside his house after one stormy afternoon, offered him a towel around his shoulders and a hot tea.   
  
He thinks about that first night. How Phil had been so careful and kind with him. How he’d treated him like a person. He’d listened to a stranger’s troubles; taken it in and helped him. Let him fall in love, and when it felt scary and unnerving, he’d loved him in return.   
  
And now, after running away from whatever problems he had, back at his home where things were crushing and frightening, he’d have to return. To a place where if he’d explain his time and relationship with Phil, he might not be  _ allowed _ to come home at all. He wouldn’t even be allowed to write Phil if his father ever found out.   
  
He’d leave this bubble and snap back into the life he’d already started to forget.   
  
Phil’s hand slips from his, and Dan already misses it before Phil’s finger comes up to trace the sleeve of the sweater he’s wearing.   
  
“You can keep this,” Phil tells him, voice low and steady. “Something to remember me by.”   
  
Dan’s breath hitches and he grabs his hand again, tighter this time. “I don’t need to,” he says, voice wobbling.   
  
Phil sniffs, fingers tremble in his hold. “Don’t forget me then,” he whispers, his voice carried out by the wind and the ocean in a wisp.   
  
Another wave crashes and water splits, flying and soaring through the night air. Dan lunges forward, letting go of Phil’s hand to grab at the sides of his face where he kisses him, hard.   
  
The kiss is warm and salty. When he pulls away, taking a breath, he notices Phil is crying.   
  
Dan looks at him under the soft moonlight, reaching over to brush a tear away with his thumb.   
  
“Are you really going to leave?” Phil asks. More tears roll down his face.    
  
Dan pulls himself away from him, looking back at the beach. The beach that’s witness to a love so strong and so fierce, it puts any ocean storm to shame.   
  
He remembers one early morning when the sky was still pink and golden, running out here barefooted, sand kicking up behind him, falling over each other, drunk and giddy. Phil had kissed him sloppily, smile wide and eyes squinted.    
  
He’d said then:  _ “You remind me of a storm.” _   
  
When Dan had kissed him back, breathed into his mouth with a heavy sigh and asked him why, he’d said back:   
  
_ “Because I really love storms.” _   
  
He looks at Phil now, sat on his porch, arms wrapped around his middle, his hair flops over in the wind, cheeks blushed and eyes misty.

“Are you really going to leave, Dan?” He asks again.   
  
Dan sucks in a breath, as sharp as the wind.   
  
“No,” he shakes his head. “Not you. I’d never leave you.”   
  
Phil’s face breaks into a grin and he laughs. It’s breathy and giggly, and his body shakes with it.   
  
“You’ll be back then?” He almost yells over the sound of waves crashing. Dan can feel his heart beat hard against his chest, a sudden moment of excitement overtakes him, zapping him like a hot fire, scolding to the touch, and he shakes his head before leaping to his feet, grabbing Phil and pulling him up with him.   
  
“Fuck that,” he yells loudly. Phil gasps before laughing again. “I want to be with you,” he says, voice cracking.   
  
Phil sniffs. “Yeah?”   
  
Dan nods. “Until we get old and our bodies become the sand, I want to be happy here,” he tells him. “Not unhappy someplace else.”   
  
Phil hums and smiles wide, ear to ear as he reaches in and kisses him softly.   
  
“What about your family?” He asks carefully, lips brush against lips.   
  
Dan holds him tighter, almost flinching at the word before composing himself. “You’re all I need,” he tells him.    
  
Phil grins against his mouth, kisses him again and the ocean beyond them is once again witness to their love, waves come crashing against rocks, only to form once again. 

“Come back to bed with me?” He whispers, his breath tickles against his skin.   
  
Dan just grins. “After. First, run with me,” he says instead, whispering back.   
  
Before he gives Phil any time to even react, he runs, taking Phil by the hand, pulling him off the decking where he breaks into a sprint across the beach, sand sprays everywhere from underneath his feet, and he can just about hear the sound of Phil’s surprised laughter over the sound of the ocean and wind that surrounds them.   
  
They run, right across the stretch, over to the rocks where the water meets the land. Both barefooted, they meet the shoreline, cold water laps at their ankles and Phil shrieks, voice echoing into the air.   
  
Dan pulls him in, swings him around in the air before dropping again, making a tiny splash. He takes a breath and kisses him, slow, long and sweetly.   
  
“Are you not scared?” Phil asks him, voice barely above a whisper.    
  
Dan hums, learning in so they rest, forehead to forehead, chests so close their hearts could almost beat in unison.

“A little bit,” he tells him honestly. The thought of leaving behind a life he had for a life much better excites him, yet, it still unnerves him. It’s not as easy as probably envisioned, but it’s got to be a lot less hard when he’s doing it with Phil.

Phil wraps his arms loosely around the back of his neck, pulling him in tight, drinking him up like he’s the most delicious thing he’s ever experienced. The thought makes Dan’s stomach  flutter.

“Good,” Phil whispers. “Me too.”

They stand there, the ocean water licks at their feet, no doubt almost frozen solid now as sand sinks and rises between purple toes. They stand, forehead to forehead, breathing in one another, like one might just cease to exist at any moment.

Dan takes a breath.

“Are we mad, Phil?”

Phil chuckles and Dan feels it flood through him, warmer than any sea.

“If you’re mad, I’m definitely mad,” he says with a grin.

Dan laughs, kisses the tip of his nose where his glasses have slipped, and holds him again.

He won’t be able to go home, not if he wants to pursue this life with Phil. It’ll be a secret one, with shared glances and stolen kisses. But they’ll always have here; this tiny hidden beach beside their small, creaky, wooden home.

This sand, this ocean and this moon will be the only witnesses to this love right here. And whilst the thought may make him sad, it’s only short lived, because in another life, he supposes, maybe many years away from here, he’ll find Phil again, and when he does he’ll be sure to make sure he’ll be just as bold when it comes to being in love. 

He’s absolutely certain of it.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on tumblr @watergator !!


End file.
